


I Miss The Taste of the Sweet Life

by jesstiel (jseca)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Slightly dubious consent, demon dean is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jseca/pseuds/jesstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demon Dean decides to drop in on Cas to give him a warning, as nicely as he can possibly muster.  Cas is wholly unprepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Miss The Taste of the Sweet Life

“Dean,” Cas’ eyes widen. It’s the first time he’s seen him since his attempt to murder Gadreel, when he was still human, if only barely. Instead of feeling surprise, elation, relief – even terror at the sight of the man ( _monster_ ) he and Sam have been searching for for weeks leaning casually up against the door to the bunker, all he can think is _not here, not now, not **now**_. He clutches at the chair he’s standing behind, because he’s not sure he trusts himself not to fall to the floor. His fading grace has been causing him nothing but trouble, and he came to the bunker for a chance to _rest_ , not to deal with – with..

He is Dean, and yet he is not Dean. Cas is almost grateful for his diminishing grace in that moment; if he had been at full power, he would have seen nothing but the true form born from the twisting and blackening of Dean’s once bright, warm, _glowing_ soul. But as it stands, one second he sees his demonic visage – grotesque and tinted with the rage of Hell, molded into something terrifyingly unrecognisable, a jarring contrast as that fades away to simply _Dean_ , a hunter and a friend, the man he had dragged from Perdition to save him from this _very fate_. Unwillingly, he finds himself wondering if maybe all his efforts had been for naught, and in the end, despite everything, this outcome was simply an inevitability. It’s making his head hurt.

He had thought he would be safe here. Sam said he had rehashed the sigils around the bunker, made them stronger after Dean had gotten in the first time, but it seems they’ve both underestimated the power running through Dean’s veins. Sam – Cas thinks that he should try and contact him, and unwittingly glances down to the phone a foot away from him on the table. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and Cas looks back up as Dean sighs airily.

“Nope, don’t even think about it.” he sing-songs, using his new-found kinetic abilities to pick the phone up and throw it across the room with a casual flick of his wrist, staring straight on at Cas with a smirk as he does so.

“Nice to see you too, Cas,” he quips at the sight of Cas glaring at him from across the room. There’s an instantly noticeable difference in the way Dean holds himself and the way he speaks, now. The Dean that Cas had seen last had been overpowered by the effects of the Mark of Cain, buried under the weight of his responsibilities and his failings, on a single-minded path paved with blood. This Dean is – freer, no longer bound by _Dean’s_ morals and rules. He might be on the same path, but he’s _enjoying_ it, now, that much is clear. “Like what you see?” Dean leers, noticing Cas’s hesitation to answer. He pushes himself off the door and motions up his body, tilting his head invitingly. “Well,” his eyes flicker black as he continues (and Cas swears his heart almost stops, he never wanted this, he would give anything-) “I wouldn’t blame you.” The smirk he flashes Cas’ way is less than innocent.

“We’ve been looking for you, Dean, myself and Sam,” Cas says, ignoring Dean’s attempts to rile him. Or at least, _attempting_ to ignore them. “Why would you simply show up here, after all this time?”

Dean’s eyes flicker back to green just as he’s in the middle of rolling them. “Crowley’s gettin’ boring. Said I was ‘painting _too many_ towns red.’ Can you believe that?” He begins to cross the room towards Cas, who finds himself taking half a step back for every step Dean takes, and he hates himself for it. Dean is not somebody he is _scared_ of, never, _never_ \- “Turns out the King of Hell has a bar for murder,” Dean continues airily, shrugging in that kind of ‘well, what can you do’ way. That does make Cas stop in his tracks as his battered mind has to take second to try and allow for the dichotomy between _this_ Dean and _his_  Dean.

“You didn’t hesitate in using Sam to raise that bar a notch,” Cas says fiercely as he regroups. “So why should I believe you’re here for any other reason than to try and kill me?”

“I had my reasons,” Dean looks – maybe a little remorseful? Not that Cas is going to fall for it.

“‘Reasons’ for attempting to brutally murder him with an axe?”

“He’s trying to cure me, Cas. And the lengths he’s gone –,” Dean whistles heavily. “If you don’t know, you don’t wanna know. You think I’m bad?”

“ _We_ are trying to cure you, Dean. Don’t tell me –,” he goes quiet for a split second too long, hardly even daring to contemplate the reality of what he’s been trying so hard to deny. “You would rather stay like this?”

“Buddy, I have _never_ felt better. I’m free to get rid of whatever stands in my way without worrying about the consequences. There’s no emotional barriers or attachments, none of that worthless _guilt_ , just freedom. Plus, hell, I’m probably more juiced up than you were at your strongest, which – I hate to say it, isn’t anywhere near where you are right now.” Dean grins as he moves forward a little more, his voice moving down a register. “That stolen grace isn’t doing you any favours, huh?”

Cas backs up, only to find that he’s made it to the nearest wall, so presses himself against it, almost relieved to have something to lean against. Inside the sleeve of his trench coat, he manifests his angel blade, just in case. It wouldn’t be anything more than a distraction to allow him a chance to escape, but it’s better than nothing.

“My top priority has been _you_ , Dean,” he replies truthfully, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “We can’t let you stay like this, it isn’t you, it’s everything you’ve ever gone against-,”

(- he suddenly remembers the crypt, Dean down on his knees, the same words pouring from his mouth as Cas had raised the angel blade up - “ _Cas, this isn’t you-_ ,” but he knows admissions of need and family and love won’t do him any good here, as much as he wishes it were as simple as that; there’s no brainwashing to be undone, this time.)

“Maybe so,” Dean grins, less than a foot from Cas now. His eyes flicker black as he moves to palm the first blade, shoved in his belt. Cas hadn’t even realised. “But now? You better listen to me, Cas, because it’s your only warning. And poor little Sammy didn’t even get that, so consider this a lucky break.” He’s crowding into Cas’s personal space now, forcing him to stare into pools of black. “I came here to tell you to _back off_. You can’t cure me. You _won’t_ cure me. If you keep it up, next time I come back, it _will_ be to kill you, I can promise you that.” He grins as his eyes slide back to green. “So maybe you should change those priorities of yours, huh? You’re not gonna last long either way, at this rate. Though it’s sweet to think you’re letting your life-force burn away for _me_..”

“New grace isn’t the easiest commodity to come by, for one thing,” Cas grits out, but he’s ignored.

“I can see it now, you know,” Dean carries on his new train of thought unperturbed, still not backing off. In fact, he crowds Cas in _more_ , reaching up so his forearms rest on either side of Cas’s head. “Shoulda guessed. Why else would you sacrifice your entire angel army? And there I was, thinkin’ angels were junkless sons o’ bitches.” Cas is frozen, things he had never taken the time to admit sounding like poison in Dean’s mouth. He’s powerless as Dean leans forward, whispering into his ear, “Except this angel fell in love.”

“You don’t get the right to say those things,” Cas grits out as Dean moves his head back to align their eye line.

“Cas, you don’t mean that,” Dean says, and for a second Cas suffers a severe double take. In a mere split second, Dean’s predatory, demonic expression has faded away to something much softer, and his voice has changed. The flickering from true form to human has stabilized to just.. Dean.

“Please don’t do this,” Cas murmurs, feeling his heart constrict. He’s too weak to push Dean away, and he can’t say for sure if that’s a physical or mental fault.

“You shoulda told me, man.” 

“Under what circumstances?” Cas spits out. “We haven’t been the best of friends over the past year.”

“We’ve both had our problems, Cas, come on. Give me a little slack here.” Dean laughs a little nervously as he reaches a hand up to palm Cas’s cheek. Cas feels tears born from aggravation welling up as he fights against the urge to simply give in. “It doesn’t change the facts.”

“Dean, please don’t -,”

“Cas, you gotta know I love you too, right?” Dean says gently, and Cas groans, clutching his eyes shut. He couldn’t say how long he’s wanted to hear those words from Dean, but not like this, never like this. He feels a tear drop down his cheek, and his breath hitches as it’s thumbed softly away by Dean. His grip on the angel blade is becoming painfully tight. “There’s just never been a right time to say it.” There’s no time to stop Dean from leaning in and gently pressing his lips to Cas’s, at that. He can’t say for sure whether he would have had it in him to stop him in any case. He _knows_ this is just an act, that the _real_ Dean is long gone, but for just a split second, he finds himself giving into the damning urge to kiss back, acting on a desire he’s held inside himself for longer than he cares to admit. But in that split-second, he swears he feels his mouth burn from the poison of Hell, and it’s enough to jolt him back to reality.

Almost like a reflex, he slides the angel blade down into his hand and thrusts it forward, straight into Dean’s abdomen. Truthfully, he had only ever thought to use it as a distraction, knowing it could never fell a demon as powerful as one juiced up on the Mark of Cain, but- Dean pulls back, clutching at the blade. “Cas, what-,” the puncture is sparking, glowing, not what Cas had expected at all, truthfully, not what he had even _wanted_ -,

“Dean?” He’s panicking a little, and is just about to reach forward – maybe it truly was Dean, maybe he’s done the unthinkable - when Dean looks straight up at him, grinning with his black-eyed stare, his true demon form flickering back into view.

“Gotcha,” he snarls, thrusting the blade out with one clean pull and throwing it unceremoniously to the side. Cas falls back against the wall, knowing that maybe he’s signed his own death warrant there and then. “You’re so damn easy to fool, Cas.” His eyes flash to black, and Cas can’t find words to defend himself; can only watch as his one, futile hope of escape is thrown to the side as if it were nothing more than a child’s play sword. He knows there’s no point trying to run, in any case. He won’t get very far.

“Did you enjoy the role-play?” Dean grins like he’s done Cas a huge favour. “I thought I’d give you a taste of the impossible. Just my little gift to you on this.. special occasion.”

“And what.. ‘occasion’ would that be?” Cas bites out, trying to hide the fact that he’s still reeling a little from the past minute.

“Call it a.. ‘I’m graciously leaving you alive today’ gift,” Dean replies after a moment’s contemplation. Finally, he backs off. “Can’t promise I can lay the same offer down the next time I see you, though,” he shrugs, the casual gesture thrown off kilter combined with Dean’s still black eyes.

“Dean, we are _not_ going to give up, and I know you know that.” Cas counters, feeling a little like a broken record. But it’s the truth. He might sooner kill _himself_ before allowing him to give up on Dean.

Dean sighs heavily, throwing his arms out to the sides. “Cas, c’mon, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, here. Do you know how many people have gone without dying a nasty death after pissing me off in the past week? No, don’t bother, I’ll tell you: it’s zero.”

“Then why -,”

“You haven’t pissed me off. _Yet._ I’d say mildly irritated, maybe.” For the first time since he appeared in the bunker, Dean draws the first blade out from his belt, moving it up to eye-level with Cas. “But don’t even think that I won’t so much as _blink_ before using this on you if you push me.” He grins, his eyes finally sliding back home to the bright green Cas had once found to be a source of comfort, rather than horror. “Got it?” Cas doesn’t even bother to answer; he just glares resolutely at Dean, hoping that conveys his current mind-set. “Atta-boy,” Dean winks at him, clapping him on the shoulder, a gesture Cas could almost believe was meant with friendly intentions if not for the darker meaning behind it.

And then he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Song title from Maroon 5's 'Maps'. Beta-d by brokenbvcky and steviecass on tumblr, thank you guys! <3


End file.
